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Eldarard Eithenor
I couldn't believe I had pulled it off, and was able to land this interview. I mean, it's not like I was able to call him up on the phone or anything. We were worlds apart, literally. I had to pull a lot of strings and call in countless favors to get him here. Who knows? If this went well, maybe it would be the first of many exclusive interviews. I can tell you this, when the door opened and he stepped through into the little sitting room that had been set aside for things like this, I thought my heart was going to stop. I'd never seen anyone like him before, and he certainly wasn't what I had expected. Oh, sure. I'd watched movies where they tried to depict characters that are like him, but there is no way, in our world, that anyone had ever come close to capturing the commanding presence of someone of his race. My first thought was, 'I can't believe it. A real live elf is standing in front of me.' Then, of course, I reminded myself, elves aren't real in our world and technically not in his either. He is not an elf, as I've been reminded on several occasions, but an Ithnevarian. Honestly, I wasn't sure I understood the difference, but I didn't want to offend my guest. To try and describe him to you would be very difficult. Even if I was a master of the English language, I still don't think I could do him justice. Try this though. Think of the most beautiful man you can possibly imagine, and then give him elvn ears. Eldarard Eithenor was ten times more beautiful. At 6'3”, even standing I had to look up to look him in the eye, and I'm 5'9”. Meeting his gaze was a little unsettling at best. They were this beautiful light green, but when I looked closer, I found myself staring, captivated. They were like the sea, and when I say like the sea, I mean the color of his eyes seemed to be ever changing, churned by the constant movements of the currents swirling just beneath the surface. His light blond hair, streaked with silver highlights, was drawn back into a manageable ponytail, held securely at the base of his neck by a leather strap. Two locks were separated from the ponytail, braided and left free to frame either side of his face. He was slender, and moved with the easy, fluid grace and beauty that one would attribute to a sleek panther. A predator, silently stalking through its natural habitat. It made me wonder if, like the panther, he too could blend in to his surroundings, silent and deadly, if he wanted to. It didn't help that he looked like he was dressed for battle, well, minus the armor. Strapped diagonally across his back was a scabbard that sheathed some sort of sword. I have never been very knowledgeable about those kind of things, but it was big enough to reach from his right shoulder down to his left hip. Attached to the leather belt around his waist was a sheathed dagger of some sort, and it looked like another was strapped to the inside of his calf, tucked down inside his boot. I stood to greet him, stepping forward to shake his hand. As he took my hand in his, one of the first things I noticed was that it was large enough to fully encompass mine. His fingers were long and fine boned, such as what I would expect of a pianist. Though he was careful not to squeeze too tight, I could tell by his grip that there was an underlying strength belied by his slender appearance. His skin was smooth and soft, as if he had never worked a day in his life, but from the few tidbits of gossip I had heard about him, I knew that it wasn't true. I know I blushed, because I felt the heat creeping into my cheeks when he smiled and I realized I hadn't let go of his hand. “Welcome, Sir Eithenor. Thank you so much for taking time from your busy schedule to meet with me. I know there are people out there who have heard your name and are asking themselves... 'Who is he and what makes him tick?'” I invited him to sit, and he practically poured himself into the chair across from me. “It is such a pleasure for me to be able to sit here with you and have the opportunity to get to know you.” Again, he smiled, and I felt my heart skip a beat. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms. ...?” It was then I realized I hadn't introduced myself, and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks again, which brought about a good natured chuckle from him. The sound was like music to my ears. “Forgive me. I thought that you had already been informed...” I stammered, then cleared my throat. “I'm Kayla Michaels.” “Kayla, you can call me Eldarard. Sir Eithenor just sounds so formal and stuffy.” There was that smile again. “It's a pleasure for me to be here with you today. It's a new and interesting experience for me, this world of yours, though I have to admit I am eagerly anticipating my return home.” He reclined in the chair, exuding a calm manner, though I couldn't help but wonder if he were prepared to leap into action in the blink of an eye, if he were to be threatened in some way. “Eldarard then.” I felt like I was grinning from ear to ear as I said his name. “I know my readers are anxious to know everything there is to know about you, but why don't we start with something simple. Where were you born, and what were your parents like?” He seemed to get a faraway look on his face, his mind drifting back to that place in time for several minutes, before he answered. “I was born and raised in a small and unassuming village on the island of Tuyet. We were mostly self-sufficient, not having to rely on trade for anything we needed. It was a nice place to grow up, with everyone in the village more like family, than neighbors. It was important, because my mother was raising me on her own. My father died before I was born, so I never had the chance to meet him. I know very little of him, except for the fact that while he was living, he made my mother very happy. For that, I hold him in high regard. I do remember her saying something one time, about my father being a healer, but other than that, she didn't talk about him much. I could see it hurt her too much to think about him. My mother, she was gifted of the gods. The plants she tended always grew well, and her heart overflowed with kindness and love toward everyone she knew or came in contact with. She grew and bartered the fruits and vegetables from her garden to support us, as well as doing odd jobs for the other members of our village. It was a meager existence, but a good one.” Whenever he mentioned his mother, it was easy to see the love he had for her, his face lighting up and becoming more animated. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I asked, curious. “No. My mother never sought another husband after my father died. He was her soulmate, and I think a part of her died with him. From that point on, she focused all her love and energy into raising me to be a son that she thought he would be proud of.” “And do you think you are? Someone he would be proud of, that is?” He smiled again. It was a disarming smile that I could imagine charmed many a female heart. “My mother has told me that I am on several occasions.” He lifted a hand to take the end of a braid between his fingers, twisting it back and forth idly as he continued to watch me. “In a small village like you grew up in, were you able to receive any type of formal education?” I couldn't help myself. I felt drawn in by his smile and I leaned forward, just wanting to be closer to him. “A formal education? Not at first. Growing up, I helped my mother around the house and out in the garden, wanting to ease some of the burden for taking care of us, if I could. After my mother's death...” He grew silent, and I could see the pain, as if it were still fresh, in his eyes. He let go of the braid and readjusted his position in the chair to sit up a little straighter. “I vowed to never be so weak or unprepared again. I sought out any who would teach me to fight. It wasn't long before a guild warrior took me under his wing, teaching me not only the skills of war craft, but of self-discipline and self-respect. I hadn't realized how far I'd fallen in my own estimation, when I proved to be useless to help my mother, but he helped me to regain what I had lost... and honed it further.” The fire that flashed in his eyes when he spoke made me sit back, as if hit, physically, by the fury he felt over his mother's death. I wanted to know more, but at the same time I was almost afraid to ask. “What happened?” I asked hesitantly, half expecting him to either withdraw and declare the interview over, or turn the force of his anger on me. What happened next was neither of those things. He took a moment to calm himself with a few slow, deep breaths. A small smile reformed on his lips, though I could tell it was strained. “My mother had been captured by a bunch of brutes, and to this day I still don't know why they would have taken her. She didn't cause anyone trouble, and no matter how important she was to me, she held no major significance to the rest of the world. I was still young at the time, but I followed them, waiting until they made camp. It was then that I witnessed something that no child should ever have to endure... the torture and death of my mother, right before my very eyes. I had tried to save her, but one, young, Ithnevarian, alone and armed with only a dagger from my boot and the spade with which my mother had used to tend the garden, was not enough against thirty or more of Erzsebet’s men. They had the deck stacked with a minor yaser of their own. My punishment for daring to invade their camp and cause them minor inconvenience, was to watch them rape and torture my mother before they finally struck the killing blow. They tied me up, only the gods really knew what they planned to do with me, forgetting about me until after they had eaten and rested. I managed to free myself and stole one of their horses.” My heart ached for him as he told me of his mother, but I couldn't help a bit of a smile myself when I saw the look in his eyes as he recounted the stealing of the horse. “Jaegar has become a faithful friend and companion, and we've been together ever since. Don't ask me how he's managed to live so long and stay so young and strong. Maybe it's something Erzsebet did. No matter. He's been freed of her clutches.” “You've mentioned Erzsebet in combination with those men. Who is she, and why do you think they were her men?” “Erzsebet Selas.” His tone was somewhat ominous as he said her name, and it sent chills through me. “She has been around since before I was born, and even then, she had become a power to be reckoned with. I won't say that parents would use her name to scare their children into behaving, because people are more afraid of drawing her attention by speaking her name aloud.” It made me wonder just what she had done to make herself so feared. In our world, I couldn't think of any country, let alone any one person, who had the ability to instill that kind of fear in the masses. “In Dysothtria, hundreds of years ago, she came into her own power and began conquering nations around her. It is said that she wields magic granted to her by one of the Cargan themselves, making her unbeatable. Unbeatable, that is, unless she finds disfavor with her patron... and if he has no more use for her, then no one will have to fear her again.” Eldarard sat up and leveled a steady gaze on me. The stare was so intense, I felt like crawling in behind my chair to avoid drowning in the storm tossed waves of the deepening green of his eyes. “And I know the men who captured my mother answered to her, because I overheard them talking before I was discovered. They spoke of how it would greatly displeasure Erzsebet if they failed. Unfortunately, I was unable to learn exactly what it was they were supposed to be doing for her, because they caught me spying at the edge of their tent.” I could tell we both needed a break at that point. “Sir Eithenor...” I saw he was about to correct me, but I managed to speak up first. “Eldarard. Why don't we take a break? I'll have someone bring in something for you to drink while I make a quick trip to the little girl's room.” I offered a weak smile, hoping he didn't see my hands trembling. The thought of him as a young boy, having to watch such terrible things done to his mother and be helpless to do anything about it... It was horrifying. I know we have such cruelties in our own world, but I also know that many of the children who have been through those kind of atrocities suffer untold psychological damage. For him to come through it with, what I'm guessing, the worst of it being this residual anger, spoke highly of his character... or maybe just his race. Maybe there is something inherently strong in the Ithnevarians that made them more capable of handling that kind of torment with relatively few psychological scars. I quickly got to my feet and hurried out into the hallway. Once outside, I leaned back against the door, and closed my eyes. I imagined him as a child being made to watch as his mother was tortured right before his eyes, and I just wanted to hold him. Yet, there was something unapproachable about him that made me wonder if he ever let anyone close to him. **************************************** When I returned to the room about fifteen minutes later, I found Eldarard standing by the window overlooking the city below. He was quiet, looking completely relaxed and at ease, even in an environment that was completely foreign compared to everything he was used to. Most people I know would have been nervous and on edge in a world not their own, but he seemed to take everything in stride, without letting it ruffle him. Either that, or he was very good at hiding it. If he noticed my return, he didn't give any indication, instead he seemed to be fascinated with the movements of the people and the traffic far below us. I cleared my throat to get his attention, stepping further into the room with two cups of coffee that I remembered to grab at the last minute before coming back. I had forgotten to ask what he wanted, and only hoped he would find it to his liking. “Sir... Eldarard.” I realized immediately my slip up and corrected it quickly, still unaccustomed to calling him by his first name. “I hope you like coffee.” He turned to face me in a slow and fluid manner, the image of the panther returning to my mind as I watched him. He flashed me that killer smile again as he strode across the room toward me, obviously feeling better than he did when I excused myself. I returned his smile and held out the extra cup I had brought for him, waiting for him to take it. “I can't say I've ever had coffee before, but I don't shy away from trying something new.” His fingers brushed my hand when he took the cup from me and moved back over to the chair he had lay claim to when he first entered the room. Watching him had been distracting enough, but the brief touch left me rooted to the spot and I had to remind myself to move back to my own seat or be left with no explanation that wouldn't cause me some measure of embarrassment. I waited for him to get settled comfortably while I focused my mind on the questions I wanted to ask next. My first thought was to make sure I steered clear of anything that might bring the topic back to his mother. “You look like someone who is very sure of himself. How do you think others see you, and how would they describe you?” I lifted my cup to take a sip, careful to blow on it first. “I would have to say, that those who don't know me very well tend to find me a little intimidating. Being Ithnevarian, and especially tall for one of our kind, combined with my armor and skill with weapons can make others a little unnerved.” As he spoke, his eyes lit up, appearing amused over something. “A time or two I've heard the words cocky or arrogant thrown about in regards to myself. Some folks have a tendency to mistake self-confidence for arrogance, and I don't have the time or energy to waste in educating them.” I had begun to wonder if he was ever going to try the coffee, when he finally lifted the cup to his lips. I was grateful to see he sipped carefully, since I had forgotten to warn him about just how hot it could be. “For those who know me, they would say I'm loyal, fierce in battle, and a jovial companion in a tavern.” I couldn't help but smile as he spoke. “Following that, how would you describe yourself?” I leaned forward a little, lowering my voice as if we were conspiring. “What is the real Eldarard Eithenor like?” He chuckled and reached to place the cup on the end table set between our chairs. “I think of myself as disciplined, but well-balanced. It's something I learned from my mentor in training. He taught me that there is a time and place for everything. When you're in the middle of a battle, you need to be focused completely on what you're doing and what's going on around you. There is no time for anything that will distract you. Every second counts, because if you're not careful... you won't be given a second chance. I am very confident in my abilities, self-assured. I like to think that I've been trained by the best, and it shows through.” He leaned forward as he spoke, the elegant lines of his features hardened to attest to the seriousness of his words, softened as he continued. “When it's time to relax and play, well then, it's time to let loose a little. It's equally important to make sure you take that time to wind down, because if you don't... you're an accident waiting to happen. You become so tense, that even the smallest things... like a wench bumping into you as she passes by your table to serve one of the other customers... can set you off, and you'll find yourself with a dead wench on your hands and no good explanation for it.” He reclined back in the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him and folded his hands casually over his stomach. “When it comes to people, once I call a man... or a woman for that matter... a friend, I am loyal to the death. I will give my life for a friend, if it came to such a choice, and wouldn't think twice about it. Friends and family are the most valuable things you can collect in your lifetime. If you find yourself a good friend, don't squander the friendship they give you. Treasure it, tend to it like you would a plant in your garden. Spend time watering it... give it the attention it deserves so that it will flourish and grow stronger every day.” As I watched him speak, I couldn't help thinking to myself that I wished I had even one friend like him. “Speaking of friends. Is there anyone in your life that you trust or rely on? Anyone who trusts and relies on you?” Everything I learned about him, only made me want to know more. He chuckled, his expression lit up at my question. “My closest friends are those who have traveled with me and fought beside me. Ten years ago the five of us came together. Ethana and I had already met years before, traveled and fought together, but it was only when we added Delvician, Brielle and Jordorvan to our group that the Might of Vindorious that our world is familiar with, came into being.” He lifted his right hand to examine the ring I hadn't noticed until that moment. It was an exquisitely crafted, silver ring with a gemstone set in the center, which was mostly blue, but the color seemed to shift and swirl with white to sea green/blue. “Another good friend is King Iain Shaedon, ruler of Maritonia.” The mention of a King peaked my interest and I leaned further forward, resting my elbows on my knees to listen. “There was a time when Ethana and I fought side by side and back to back with King Shaedon during a war Maritonia found themselves in with Cyrah. During that time, we three became fast friends.” He smiled and I couldn't help but smile in return. “Friendships won in the heat of battle seem to be the most strongly forged.” “If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?” He seemed very confident in himself, and I was very curious to see what his answer to this would be. He listened to my question, and to my surprise, he didn't even hesitate to think about his answer. “More wisdom and discernment to make the right decisions. Even when my emotions – especially my anger concerning my mother's death – threaten to interfere and cloud my mind. I'm afraid that the day may come when quick, clear thinking will be needed on my part... when other people's lives will be depending on me to make the right decision... and I will fail, to the detriment of many.” With every revelation, Eldarard Eithenor only became more and more fascinating in my eyes. “What is it, exactly, that you do? I know you mentioned the... Might of Vindorious?” I looked to him to make sure I was pronouncing it correctly. He nodded, causing his braids to dip forward, then back. “What is it the Might of Vindorious does, and what is your part in it?” “We formed the MoV... short for Might of Vindorious... to help clear up some of the bandit problems, and other unpleasantness, that were facing the various kingdoms in Dysothtria We have no proof, but we suspect Erzsebet is behind many of the troubles we are out there fighting against. Our ultimate goal, however, is to bring Erzsebet down from her position of power, ridding the world of her evil machinations. We know that Erzsebet is too powerful for us to take on directly right now, but a weakness must be found that we can exploit. Once we find it, we will do whatever is necessary to make sure she is no longer a threat. Until then, we will use all our resources to cull her minions and weaken her reach.” He chuckled softly, flashing that dazzling white smile my way. “I'm not so naïve to believe that if we were to take her down that there wouldn't be any others to rise up in her place, but then, we would simply take on her replacement.” He pushed himself up a little straighter, pulling his feet in a little closer. “As far as my contribution to the group? Ethana and I are essentially the leaders and founders, but my own personal addition is the use of my sword and other combat skills. I have had many years to fine tune my abilities, and the others look to my experience to help in making decisions.” “What will you do if you're able to bring down Erzsebet? I know you said there will probably be other evil, but do you see a completion, something to say that you were successful?” “Honestly, if we can keep evil in check, then we must be doing something right, but if we can bring Erzsebet down, I'll take the time to search out my father's homeland. Hopefully learn more about him and my ancestors.” He pulled some sort of medallion out from beneath his shirt, cradling it in his hand to study it. “This belonged to my father. My mother gave it to me for my fifteenth birthday, and I've treasured it ever since.” I leaned forward, hoping to get a glimpse of it, but he tucked it away beneath his shirt quickly. I leaned back in my chair, my thoughts for my next question having flown at the idea of getting to see his medallion. I scrambled for a question. “What do you enjoy most about your work?” “In the heat of battle, there is a rush, almost as if you are somehow more than yourself. I am more focused and it seems that all of my senses are heightened acutely. It's exhilarating.” “What do you like to do when you're not out rounding up bandits, or saving fair damsels in distress?” My question brought out a somewhat roguish smile from him that made my heart skip a beat and my stomach flutter. “My free time is split between practicing or furthering my training, and visiting bazaars or market places and taverns in the towns or cities we stop in. If there is a special event going on in the area, it's a good way to wind down, enjoying and celebrating life, as well as getting to know the people of the area. It's a nice reminder of why we do the things we do. I've learned a little of that from Ethana.” “It sounds as if you and Ethana are very close.” I couldn't help but feel a little pang in my heart, but I continued. “Though, with what you've been through together, in battles and such, I guess it's to be expected.” I could have kicked myself. I had tried to make it sound like a natural, even though my initial comment had stemmed more from the hint of unreasonable jealousy I felt. If he noticed, he was gracious enough not to let on. “We had several encounters before we finally ended up joining forces.” He tugged at his sleeve absently, straightening it as he spoke. “A few amusing little anecdotes, but I won't share, in deference to Ethana.” He grinned impishly and I couldn't help but wonder what those little anecdotes would reveal. Though I wanted to push a little to see what he would tell me, I thought it wiser to move on. “What do you like to eat?” “I think you remember me talking about my mother's garden? It's funny. I never wanted to eat much that she had grown, mostly because I was out there helping her most of the time. As I grew, however, I discovered how good the fruits and vegetables were and how they were good for me as well. Now that she's gone, they seem even more important to me. I add a little meat to my diet as well, topped off with mead or wine, but I keep it to a minimum. I don't want to have a heavy stomach if I have to turn around and fight for my life or the lives of my friends in the next five to ten minutes.” He chuckled. “I've even had my meal interrupted a time or two. Unpleasant creatures, I dare say.” I couldn't help a soft chuckle at his expression... a hint of disgust settling on his features. “Do you collect anything?” “Seeds. One of these days, if I ever settle down, I intend to plant a garden like my mother's.” “Speaking of settling down, is there a special someone in your life? Someone who has stolen that heart of yours?” His laughter filled the air, and I wondered if there was some sort of private joke about the matter. “I don't have a wife, and I'm not sure if I'm willing to commit to an answer just yet about whether someone has stolen my heart.” His eyes were alight with merriment as he leaned closer, and I could smell the very earthy scent about him. “You see, that would then make the woman a thief, and we would have all sorts of issues to work through. On that note, I should probably be heading home.” He pushed himself up out of the chair, rising to his full, towering height. I quickly got to my feet, setting my forgotten coffee aside on the table. “I'm sorry, Sir... I mean Eldarard. Did I say something wrong?” I was afraid that my questions had struck another sore spot and this is what had caused him to finally decide to end the interview. Although, I had exhausted the questions I came expecting to ask, I couldn't help but want to know more about him. He shook his head, stepping closer to take my hand in his. I was all prepared to shake, when I realized he was bowing over my hand to place a light kiss. “No, my dear Kayla. You said nothing wrong. I have been here for more than a day now, and my concern grows that I have stayed too long and must get back to my friends. I don't want them to worry about me.” He bestowed that beautiful, heart stopping smile of his on me and turned for the door. I moved after him, not wanting him to leave without my thanking him. “Thank you Eldarard. I can't tell you how much it means to me... and my readers... that you have taken the time to sit and talk with me... to open yourself up and share the way you have.” I tried to reach out and touch his elbow, but before I could, he turned to bestow another warm smile on me. “Be well, little one.” He said softly before disappearing into the hallway, leaving me to stand there and wonder if I would ever get the opportunity to see him again. So, my dear readers, I only wish each of you could have shared the experience with me, though I have done my best to tell you as clearly as I can so that you might imagine yourself there. I must admit my own failing that I can't possibly convey as vividly with words what the experience was truly like. I will leave you with this. There are many things out there that science has explained and mysteries that it will continue to strive to explain. Let us hope they do not completely eradicate the magic from our lives. Let us keep a little mystery, for if we know and understand it all, then what is left for us to learn and wonder about.